


rain in the daytime

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: And probably OOC, Angst, M/M, Sibling Incest, and his mind is no doubt super complicated so idfk, but liam is much smarter than people give him credit for, this is probably ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: You won’t fucking destroy me and you won’t fucking satiate me and all I’ve ever wanted was one or the other.199x





	rain in the daytime

**Author's Note:**

> so this is something super old, i wrote it in october 2015 (it was posted in MFOK at the time lol RIP to livejournal), forgotten until now when i found it on my computer. in the interim while i work on about 4 stories at once (yikes) i figured i'd put it up here. quite short and pretty pointless, but, well. hopefully someone will enjoy it.
> 
> it's also my nineteen year old self trying to be poetic which is kinda hilarious, so

 

 

_He’ll never, ever give you what you want. Not completely. Not enough. He’ll tease and feed you bit by bit but it will never, ever satisfy your craving. Is that his fault or yours, then? Is he not giving enough? Or do you just want, desire, need far more than you should?_

 

xxx

 

No matter what I fucking do, past all the drugs and drink and birds and televisions out the fucking window and smashing my head on the concrete outside the hotel and flashbulbs in my eyes and _Liam Liam Liam over here Liam_ in my ears wherever I fucking go, the fans and the girls and the suits and the press with their dirty little tape recorders, nothing seems to kill that fucking pulse in my veins, reminding me the only one I want to say my name is _you._

How old was I when I let it slip? When those cardboard walls in my young mind got lazy and decided to fuck off on holiday somewhere far prettier than me, and left me fucking empty, what else could I have filled that fucking space with? You were all I wanted from the day I was born, I’m sure of it. All I wanted to know, to understand, to be and to be _wanted by –_ but when did I let it get the better of me?

Thirteen, what, twelve? Sick. Sick, twisted boy I thought, I saw in the mirror eyes that looked like yours but so much less alive when I was alone. You’d saunter in speaking of the pleasures that you’d found and I’d wanted to ask you _How does it feel when she kisses your lips? When she strokes your hair?_ but I was too preoccupied with how I felt to care. And at thirteen I’d been kissed before but never touched or held or _fucked_ and knowing you were doing all these things was too much to take. I was envious – and who of? – but unlike before I wouldn’t get a lolly or a jumper or a bicycle from Mam just so it would be fair. If she knew how I wanted you there’d be no reward.

 

xxx

 

_One day, you fear, he will profit off of your demise. Running from ghosts you can never escape from, everybody’s got a gun and you’re alone. Alone. No hope. The atmosphere will cling to him and you, gleaming, like a cocaine-carat diamond ring, a trophy displayed and forgotten. Alone. No hope. Together in voice but not in soul, you will perish universal and the big bad wolf will have his day._

 

xxx

 

I saw you kiss a bloke when you were nineteen. You brought him in _our_ room and pushed him up against _our_ wall and tripped over – over _my_ fucking shoes while you stumbled around. I almost wished you’d seen me shocked standing in the doorway, if only to make you drop the act you sold for years, to alert you that it was useless because _I knew._ I knew you kissed and fucked to _use_ them, I knew you used birds but now I knew you’d use boys too – anyone you could get your fucking hands on, it would seem. So why did I want those hands on me, then? I don’t know, I didn’t know, I won’t know because you will never pluck the secrets from my tongue, not even just to crush them in your hand. You won’t fucking destroy me and you won’t fucking satiate me and all I’ve ever wanted was one or the other. Just fucking _choose_ , man, my future’s up to you, I think, and your past will _always_ be mine.

 

xxx

 

_You are stupid, much too uneducated, enough that even in old age you’ll confuse brother with lover. Enough that you’ll watch your own hand spell out five letters instead of seven, betrayed by your own flesh. But that wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Even now you don’t understand, even now it simply cannot and will not be your fault._

 

xxx

 

Five for lover, five for Oasis, seven for brother, seven for the sins and for _Noeliam_ like you’d told the magazines we’d soon become. Just for a day. _Just this once, then,_ you’d say, as if you’d never dreamed it seven thousand times before, as if being blood was perfectly alright so long as it was only _once –_ the _one_ guilty indulgence, _one_ kiss _one_ blow _one_ full moon and _one_ criminal fuck – and you were clever about it, too. The way I stopped as my lips moved to yours just a week from the night we first broke and asked _What happened to just once?_ and you didn’t even pause to reply, _Well, we’ve never had our second kiss, have we? Don’t that make it a first?_

You showed your concern _just once_ , when you bluntly asked me _Did I hurt you? You… you were seventeen, I–_ and I’d interrupted, _Only my arse, man,_ and you’d left the room. And that was that. It was raining and you’d no doubt fuck off for your hours-long walk in the pathetic grey drizzle that you so hated yet so admired. Because clouds could shed their tears and you could not. You will always take pleasure in the things you hate; and you will always wrap yourself in the afternoon downpour.

 

xxx

 

_He only hates rain in the daytime. Only when it’s not very pretty and drags its nimbostratus along like a child with his blanket and he can’t sleep in late through its tapping on his window. To him, rain is sin and temptation; to him, rain is you._

 

 


End file.
